


It Don't Matter Where We Go

by ruthie13



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F, Smut, it's about the trade but its not like. super sad., just a lil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 10:47:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22560007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruthie13/pseuds/ruthie13
Summary: Lindsey cries first. She's not surprised.
Relationships: Lindsey Horan/Emily Sonnett
Comments: 8
Kudos: 81





	It Don't Matter Where We Go

**Author's Note:**

> This is long overdue! So sorry if you're sick of hearing/reading about the trade. Also this has next to no plot. Enjoy!

Lindsey cries first. She’s not surprised. It isn’t that she feels things more than Emily, but sometimes she thinks she feels them quicker. 

So when Emily hangs up the phone and repeats the news, voice blank, eyes looking at nothing, Lindsey is the one who cries. She feels extra bad about it because few things upset Emily the way a crying Lindsey upsets Emily, but maybe it’s for the best because it makes Emily stop staring into space and scoot closer on the couch until she can pull Lindsey into her arms. 

“It’s ok. Linds, it’s ok.” Emily says automatically. It’s not ok, but she loves Emily for saying it, and for holding her even while Lindsey probably gets snot all over her neck. 

Lindsey wishes she could pull herself together but it’s been a week of waiting, quietly, cautiously, for the news she was wishing so badly wouldn’t come, and now that it’s official she feels like she can finally let go. They’d both flown back to Portland for New Years, holing up in Lindsey’s apartment and savoring the alone time between holidays and camp. And, though neither said it out loud, savoring the city, savoring being there together, both sensing the shifting of the soccer winds might take it away soon enough. 

“Sorry,” Lindsey says eventually, embarrassed. She pulls away and rubs her own cheek a little before reaching over and rubbing Emily’s, though she still isn’t crying. “This isn’t— this is about you. How are you feeling?” 

“Um.” Emily says. Her face hasn’t changed, not since she answered the phone. “I like Disney World?” 

Lindsey snorts out a watery laugh at that. Then she takes a deep breath. 

They hadn’t talked about it but they both knew it was maybe, possibly coming. Lindsey had just been hoping it would come one year later. Not now. Not only four months into this—this thing that still felt so new between them. 

“Help me clean up the kitchen?” She says, instead of saying any of the things she wants to say in the moment. Emily’s not ready yet. And they forgot dinner when the phone rang. So instead of talking about the trade, and what it means for her, and what is means for them, they wash and dry dishes side by side, in the kitchen of Lindsey’s apartment that had been very quickly beginning to feel like _ their _apartment. 

They’ll have time to talk, Lindsey tells herself. They leave for camp in two days but they have plenty of time to talk. 

//

Sadness comes slow to Emily, and Lindsey knows this, and so she’s not surprised, hours later, when Emily squeezes some toothpaste onto her toothbrush, sticks it in her mouth, and finally starts to cry. 

“Sonny,” Lindsey says, setting down her own toothbrush. Her heart hurts but there’s also the relief, underneath, when Emily finally gets to where she needs to be to process. She reaches out but Emily starts brushing resolutely, even as the tears drip into her mouth. “Em.” 

“ entaw eye irst-” Emily says through a mouth of toothpaste and tears. 

“I have no idea what you’re saying,” Lindsey says gently. “Will you please come here?” 

Emily finally spits, but she doesn’t turn towards Lindsey. Instead she leans further over the sink, putting her arms on the counter and her head in her arms. She’d look like she’d fallen asleep if it wasn’t for the way her shoulders start to shake with harder sobs. 

“Baby.” Lindsey rubs a hand up and down Emily’s back, trying to sound soothing. Emily’s wearing a t-shirt to sleep in and Lindsey wishes there was nothing in the way of touching her skin. “Come here, come on.”

Lindsey finally urges Emily up from the counter with an insistent hand on her hip, and it hurts more than anything when Emily straightens but keeps a hand over her face in a vain attempt to hide her tears from Lindsey. She stumbles out of the bathroom into Lindsey’s room and Lindsey follows, pulling back the covers on Emily’s side of the bed for her to fall into. 

There’s nothing Lindsey wants to do more than fall on top of her and hold her until her tears stop. But she also really wants Emily to cry this out, the kind of long, serious cry she’s sure Emily doesn’t want her to see, and so instead she goes back into the bathroom and finishes her nighttime routine, slowly, methodically. She even flosses. 

When she finally walks out of the bathroom Emily is still curled up under the covers, but her breaths have turned deep and even. Lindsey quickly changes into her pajamas and slides into bed carefully, not wanting to wake Emily even as part of her _ does _want to wake her, wants to see her blue eyes, wants to tell her everything will be alright and hear her say it back. 

She doesn’t do any of that but, because she can’t help herself, she does scoot closer and trace her pointer finger around Emily’s back, feeling out the muscle there. Emily snuffles a little and Lindsey waits, guiltily, for her to wake, but even as Emily rolls over, curling around Lindsey in her familiar position, head settling on Lindsey’s chest, she stays asleep. Lindsey wiggles her arm around Emily’s back, holding her closer, and lets the comfortable weight of Emily against her, and the warm knowledge that she’s the one Emily reaches for, even in sleep, lull her to sleep herself. 

//

When Lindsey wakes Emily’s weight is still against her. And when she blinks the sleep out of her eyes she finds Emily already looking down at her. Her face is a little puffy from crying herself to sleep last night, but her eyes are sharp and full of — well they’re full of a lot of things. Too many things for Lindsey to deal with before she’s had her coffee at least. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” Lindsey mumbles, trying to wake up more. 

“Like what.” Emily says. Her chin digs into Lindsey shoulder when she talks. 

“Like. Like that. Like you’re sad.” Lindsey kicks herself a little mentally. She’s not good at being tactful before her coffee. 

“I am sad.” Emily says. “Do you know how long it took me to acclimate to Portland? Wearing long sleeves and shit? I own so many jackets.” 

“Funny.” Lindsey says.

Emily scoots down a little so she can shove her face further into Lindsey’s shoulder. “Thanks.” She says, voice muffled. Then, after a minute: “I don’t feel like being funny.” 

“You don’t have to be funny right now.” Lindsey says. “And I know you won’t believe me, but you can even cry more, if you want.” 

Emily lets out a sustained groan before rolling onto her back. Lindsey follows, rolling onto her side so she can still see her face.

“I don’t want to cry more.” Emily says. “I don’t want to be sad.”

She’s telling herself more than Lindsey, Lindsey knows. 

“It just sucks.” Emily says. “I don’t want to leave this city. And I don’t want to leave...you.” She blushes a little as she says it and Lindsey does too. There are things they haven’t said yet, things they both thought they had more time for. 

“I know.” Lindsey says, because she does. Emily stares up at the ceiling, clearly thinking through her words. 

“I wasn’t finished here.” Is all she finally says. It’s so — it’s so _ sad _and it makes something hot and sharp flair up in Lindsey, that anything is making Sonny feel like this. It isn’t fair, and she says it. 

“It’s not fair.” Lindsey says. “We were gonna— I mean—” She blushes and doesn't finish her sentence but she knows Emily can guess where it was going. We were going to live together next season. We were going to tell our friends, and family, and maybe the fans. We were going to play for this city as teammates and girlfriends. We were going to celebrate our one year, then two. We were gonna win another championship together in this city. One day I was going to propose to you, right here in this city. 

“I know,” Emily says, because she does. She finds Lindsey’s hand under the sheets, tangles their fingers and squeezes. Emily is still lying on her back, looking up, and Lindsey strokes her thumb over the back of her hand, wanting her attention. Emily’s eyes flit over and Lindsey is talking before she can help herself. 

“Not everything has to change. Sure, some things will, but the big things? You and me? That won’t change.” Lindsey doesn’t know where the confidence is coming from, just that she wants it to be true as bad as she wants Emily to believe that it’s true. 

Emily nods a little, eyes wide like she’s soaking in the words, and finally comes closer, curling her body towards Lindsey, which is what Lindsey had wanted all along. Lindsey lifts up her free hand, touching Emily’s forehead, her cheek, almost like she’s checking her temperature. 

“Okay?” Lindsey asks. 

“Yeah.” Emily says. Her voice is hoarse and she clears it a little before trying again. “Yeah.”

“Tobin and Chris do it.” Lindsey says, thinking out loud. 

“And they’re like, the most serious couple we know.” Emily agrees. “Being more like them is probably a good thing.” 

It’s kind of a weak joke and neither of them really laugh. They just look at each other and another wave of sadness rolls over Lindsey. She doesn’t know what she’s going to do with herself, doesn’t know how she’s going to get through camp and —

“When does the news drop?” She asks, realizing she hasn’t yet. Emily shrugs. 

“In the next couple days, I guess. While we’re at camp. I’m not — I can’t think about it. Not now. Not if I want qualifying.” 

Lindsey doesn’t say _ don’t worry, _ doesn’t say _ you’ll be fine _, because Sonny’s like her in that it wouldn’t mean anything. “Good.” She says instead. It will be good, she thinks, a good week, a busy week. She’s thinking about their friends, about how they’ll be around to help keep an eye on Sonny, when Emily apparently gets tired of watching the gears turn in her and rolls on top of her, bracketing Lindsey’s face with her forearms. Lindsey’s hands go automatically to Emily’s waist. 

“Hi.” Emily says. 

“Hi.” Lindsey says back, running her hands up Emily’s sides. “You know we do actually have to pack for camp at some point.” 

“Don’t wanna pack.” Emily says. She puts her lips on Lindsey’s neck to show what, Lindsey assumes, she does want to be doing. “Camp is gonna be so long. And you know we’re not gonna be roommates because we’re not that lucky.” 

“If I’m really lucky I’ll be rooming with Kelley,” Lindsey says, just for the way Emily raises her head and glares at her. 

“You can’t make fun of me today. I’m fragile.” Emily says. “And you can’t sic Kelley on me this week either. She’s the babysitter from hell, I don’t need her hovering around making sure I’m like...eating my vegetables and processing my emotions.” 

“You’re getting Kelley.” Lindsey says. “And Becky too. And Chris. You’re going to be surrounded by competent adults at all times who are going to dole out pieces of profound wisdom whenever you start to look too sad. And you’ll have me and Rose to dole out pieces of profound stupidity when that gets to be too much.” 

Emily blushes a little at that which isn’t really what Lindsey had expected but then Emily ducks her head again, nestling back into the crook of Lindsey's neck, mumbling, “Okay.” Lindseys puts her arms around her, enjoying shy Emily the way she always does. 

Emily hasn’t forgotten what she was up too early though. She noses around Lindsey's neck for a minute before she finds a spot she wants to put her lips to, and then she does, sucking gently. Lindsey rubs Emily’s back under her t-shirt, feeling her soft, warm skin, feeling the lean muscle coiled underneath. Feeling the pinpricks of arousal start under her own skin. 

“Em,” She breathes out when Emily starts sucking harder. Emily lets up, only to lick a strip from Lindsey's neck up to her ear and then start kissing there, catching an earlobe between her teeth. She’s moving now, almost absentmindedly, on top of Lindsey and Lindsey grips her hips to help her along, slotting their legs together until Emily has to let go of Lindsey’s earlobe in favor of just breathing against her, letting out a perfect little gasp.

The mood in the room shifts abruptly as Lindsey keeps one hand low on Emily’s back to steady her and moves her other hand under Emily’s sweats. She’s not wearing anything else under them and she’s a mess already and it makes both of them groan when Lindsey touches her. Lindsey loves this position, and she knows Emily does too, but right now she wants something else, and so she flips them easily, settling Emily underneath her. She tugs at Emily’s sweats, and Emily’s on the same page as her, lifting her hips, already pulling her own shirt off. 

“Take of yours,” Emily says once she’s naked, and Lindsey laughs, but she also obliges. 

“Now come up here,” Emily says and even though Lindsey has other plans, she can’t say no to Emily, at least not today, so she does that too. Neither of them have gotten out of bed to brush their teeth, and Lindsey can only guess what her hair looks like, but neither of them care, not now, not today. Today Lindsey kisses Emily like she’s never going to get the chance again, and Emily kisses her back and they forget about camp and trades and Tokyo, and 3,000 miles.

Lindsey’s only thinking of one thing as she drags her lips down Emily’s neck, across her chest, kisses slow down her stomach. As she worries a bruise into her hip while Emily gasps and presses her feet into the mattress. And she’d bet Emily is only thinking about one thing, too. 

Lindsey goes down on Emily until she can’t think of anything else. Can’t hear anything else, can’t taste anything else. It feels perfect. It feels like what she always wanted. Emily says her name when she comes, says it the second time too, can’t say anything the third. Lindsey doesn’t move after, just rests her head against Emily’s hipbone and breathes while Emily’s shaky hand strokes through her hair. 

There are things they need to do today. They need to get up, finish their laundry, pack for camp. But for now Lindsey puts her hand on Emily’s stomach and Emily takes it in hers and laces their fingers and neither of them move, not for a long while. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Back Home - Andy Grammer 
> 
> Hope you had fun!


End file.
